


I Know We'll Be Alright

by lydiasbones



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5948073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiasbones/pseuds/lydiasbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Self-indulgent proposal fluff. Liam is very much in love and Harry is very much the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Featuring a ring hidden in athletic socks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know We'll Be Alright

Liam is sitting at the kitchen table, typing up reports. He’s been typing for hours and his whole face is starting to feel a bit numb, but he needs to get these done tonight, or his boss will have his head.

Harry is sitting across from him, reading some Bukowski novel, because Harry refuses to go to bed if Liam is still up working. He’s shirtless in his maroon boxers, swallows stark against his collarbones in the dim light of the kitchen. His hair is just barely brushing his shoulders, tangled around his face, and his lips are bitten red. Harry always picks at them when he’s reading. Liam can see that Harry’s eyes are starting to droop, and he keeps snuffling like he always does when he’s tired. The kitchen is quiet except for the constant drip of their leaky faucet, the click of Liam’s keyboard, and Harry’s breathing. Harry hasn’t turned the page of his book for at least five minutes.

“Go to bed, Haz,” Liam says softly, his fingers stopping on the keyboard. Harry looks up from his book, unfocused, and Liam can tell that he had been staring at the page without seeing the words.

Harry shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. Liam’s eyes track the thick, silver rings on Harry’s fingers. “No,” Harry says quietly, voice rough with exhaustion. “Waiting for you.”

Liam loves Harry when he’s like this, sleepy and comfortable and vulnerable, sentences incomplete and shoulders relaxed. Liam loves that he’s the one who gets to see Harry like this, gets to grab him securely by the waist and take him to bed, tuck Harry into his side and press his lips against Harry’s soft skin before they fall asleep.

But sometimes Harry is a stubborn shit.

“Harry,” Liam sighs. “Just—”

“No,” Harry repeats, burying his nose in his book. “Finish your stupid reports. We’ll go to bed together.” Then, he looks up from his book and says, “Actually, you look quite miserable. I’ll put on some tea.” And with that, he heaves himself out of his chair and stumbles over to the stove to put on the kettle. Liam can see the little dimples at the bottom of his spine.

Liam is so, so in love.

He continues typing up his report as Harry putters about the kitchen, and eventually Harry walks over to the table with two cups of a tea and a plate of biscuits. Liam smiles at Harry gratefully and takes a sip of his tea, sighing softly as the sweetness sits on his tongue. Harry takes a sip of his own, black tea and smiles back at Liam, burying his head back into his book. Liam goes back to his reports.

After two more hours, Liam is done and Harry might be snoring a little, face still buried in his book. Liam sends off the reports to his boss with a sense of determined pride. The bastard can take that—Liam knows that he hadn’t thought Liam would be able to finish the reports in time. Liam looks up at Harry and his anger deflates. Harry’s broad shoulders are moving steadily with his sleepy breaths.

“Haz, babe,” Liam murmurs. Harry doesn’t reply. Liam repeats, “Harry,” and Harry jerks up, nearly knocking over his long-cold cup of tea. Liam reaches out a quick hand and steadies the cup before it can spill, his reflexes refined after long years of cleaning up Harry’s messes.

Harry doesn’t even seem to notice the cup, just blearily asks, “Done?” His voice is low.

“Yeah, love,” Liam says softly, shutting the lid of his laptop and standing up, rolling his shoulders. He reaches out a hand and pulls Harry out of his chair. Harry comes up easily and leans into Liam, pressing his body weight against Liam’s chest. Liam wraps a solid arm around him, scrunches his nose as Harry’s hair tickles his face.

“Bed,” Harry mumbles against Liam’s chest. Liam laughs, and Harry whines as the movement of Liam’s chest shakes Harry.

“Bed,” Liam agrees, gently pulling Harry up the stairs.

They brush their teeth side by side, Harry reaching out occasionally to jab at Liam’s cheek with his finger. Liam lets him, knows that Harry gets like this when he’s tired. When they’ve cleaned up, they fall into bed, Harry pressing his overheated body against Liam’s, snuggling into his chest and pressing one large hand against Liam’s bare stomach. Liam sighs at the pleasant warmth against his skin, leans forward to press his lips gently against Harry’s.

Harry is too sleepy to respond properly, just murmurs a quiet, “Love you,” against Liam’s lips and closes his eyes. His breathing evens out within seconds.

Liam watches Harry for a while, his soft face and tangled hair and sharp jaw. It makes Liam feel full, like there’s nowhere for him to put the love and happiness and comfort that he feels. He closes his eyes, overwhelmed, and thinks briefly of the ring hidden in his pair of white athletic socks, the ones that Harry thinks are boring and would never touch. Eventually, he falls asleep.

–

Liam always wakes up early, no matter how late he falls asleep the night before, so at eight o’clock he’s in the kitchen, flipping pancakes and humming to himself. He’s wearing his Batman apron over a pair of Christmas boxers that Harry got him last Halloween. When he has the bacon sizzling in another pan, Harry finally stumbles down the stairs, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

Harry’s hair is even messier than last night, but he looks fresh, his eyes and skin brighter. He gives Liam a wide smile, the one where his dimples pop out. It leaves Liam breathless and full, like always.

Harry is still wearing nothing but his boxers as he sidles up to Liam and presses his long, warm torso against Liam’s bare back, nuzzling his face into Liam’s neck and breathing hotly against Liam’s skin.

“Morning, babe,” Harry murmurs, his lips brushing against Liam’s neck.

“Morning,” Liam manages. He turns around to kiss Harry, then grins as Harry pulls him in for another, deeper kiss, Harry licking into his mouth. He tastes like toothpaste and morning breath. Liam wonders how it’s possible to feel this much love for someone.

“Sit down, breakfast will be ready in a bit,” Liam says against Harry’s lips, pulling back a little. Harry lets out a low whine and pulls Liam back in for another kiss. Then, he pulls Liam by his apron and leads him away from the stove.

“I’ll finish it,” Harry says easily. “You go sit and do nothing—a reward for finishing those fucking reports last night.” He presses another warm kiss to Liam’s mouth and then three kisses to Liam’s neck before letting go of his apron and pushing him away.

Liam watches as Harry flips the pancakes and bacon. Harry catches him looking and grins.

“Shoo!” Harry demands, waving a hand. He looks warm and still a little sleepy, and Liam wants to grab him and drag him back to bed, but then they would burn breakfast and Harry got grumpy with Liam last time he let the bacon burn while they had sex.

Again, Liam can’t help but think of the ring in his sock drawer, and then he thinks of how often he’s been thinking of it. He thinks of how Harry refuses to go to bed until Liam is there with him, how Harry makes his tea just right, how Harry buys the kind of biscuit Liam likes even though Harry doesn’t particularly enjoy them. He thinks of Harry’s warm skin and bright smile and the fact that Harry’s pancakes will undoubtedly both look and taste nicer than Liam’s. He thinks of Harry sitting with Karen and going through baby photos. He thinks of Harry when he’s drunk, when he’s giggly and flushed and he plasters himself to Liam and demands that Liam take him home. He thinks of Harry pushing Liam into bed and crawling over him, pressing against him and leaving Liam breathless.

Liam had plans. Liam was thinking of a hot air balloon or roses or a boat or something incredible. Something Harry would never forget. But right now, watching Harry crank up the radio and hum along to some song that Liam doesn’t recognize as he flips pancakes in his small maroon briefs, Liam can’t wait a second longer.

Harry is walking towards the table with plates stacked high with pancakes, bacon, and cubed fruit, but Liam says, “Just one second,” and runs off to the bedroom. He doesn’t wait to listen to whatever Harry is yelling after him.

Liam nearly sprints upstairs and digs through his sock drawer. He has to unfold four pairs of socks before the small, velvet box falls out. Liam picks it up with trembling hands. He clasps it tightly in his fist, takes a deep breath, and then shoves it in his pocket before going back down the stairs.

Harry is sitting at the kitchen table, looking at Liam stumble down the stairs in bemusement. He hasn’t touched his plate yet, because he always waits for Liam before he starts eating. Liam loves him so, so much.

“You alright, babe?” Harry asks. He has a little furrow between his brows and his lips are pursed. His voice is low and raspy, like always, and the sound of it steadies Liam. His hands stop trembling and his breathing evens out. He walks towards the table and sits down in the chair across from Harry. Harry is still watching him carefully.

“I’m great,” Liam responds. His voice is a little shaky. “I’m the best I’ve ever been.”

Harry smiles, but he still looks a little confused. Liam is suddenly filled with the urge to see Harry’s dimples, needs to see his wide, open grin, so he leans forward and jabs at Harry’s cheek with one finger until Harry is laughing at him, swatting his hand away.

“Alright then, Li,” Harry says, brushing his hair off his face and still smiling at Liam. “Eat your breakfast.”

Harry picks up a fork, but Liam taps at his hand and says, “No, hold on just a second.” Harry puts down his fork, and the careful look is back.

“I—” Shit. Liam’s hands are shaking again. He should have stuck with the plan—should have done something grandiose, like Harry deserves. But no, he can’t hold it in any longer. He needs Harry to know. _He_ needs to know.

“I love you,” Liam manages, which he supposes is a good start.

But Harry looks nervous when he replies, “Yeah, Li, I love you too.” He fidgets a little, runs his hands through his hair again. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes!” Liam rushes to say. “Yes, yeah, everything’s fine.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s just—I need you to know how much I love you. I— _fuck_ , Haz. You’re my everything, you know that?”

Harry is watching Liam with wide eyes. Liam soldiers on. “You’re it. For me. You’re the one. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever known and just—just the best, most wonderful human being. And you tell the stupidest jokes and you never fucking stop talking about how you were a baker once and when I wake up next to you in the morning I literally cannot believe my luck. Like, every single time. Every single time I think, how can this be real? How can I have all this?”

Harry is starting to tear up, but Liam can only think about how he hasn’t even gotten to his point yet, really. He reaches across the table and grasps Harry’s hands. Harry grips back tightly and sniffles, the sop.

“I can’t believe how well you know me,” Liam says softly, hoping all of his sincerity shows. By the look on Harry’s face, it must. “I can’t believe how well you take care of me. And how I know I can trust you more than anyone else in the world. I’m better with you, Harry. You’re my life.”

“Liam—” Harry tries, but Liam shakes his head.

“Hold on, hold on,” he manages, pulling his hands from Harry’s and slipping out the chair. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the box, kneeling on the floor. When Harry sees it, he gasps and covers his face with his hands.

“Harry—” Liam starts, but Harry is outright sobbing now and Liam can barely hear himself.

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry chokes out, and Liam laughs wetly.

“Haz,” Liam admonishes, but he’s crying too now. It feels like there’s too much in his chest. “I still had a bit to say. You know, about how I want to spend the rest of my life with you—”

“Shut up, shut _up_ ,” Harry says, still choking on tears. “I don’t think I can take anymore, you stupid idiot, come here.”

But before Liam can move, Harry is already slipping out of his chair and onto the floor with Liam, pressing wet kisses to his mouth, neck, cheeks, forehead—any part of his face that Harry can reach. Eventually, they’re just breathing heavily against each other’s mouths, Harry still trying to the stop flow of tears. But he’s laughing now, dimples popping up on his cheeks, and Liam is laughing too, because fuck, Harry said yes. He said yes. Liam is going to marry the _fuck_ out of Harry.

“Oh!” Liam exclaims, pulling the ring out of the box. It’s simple, a silver band like Harry’s other rings, but it’s engraved with an intricate design that Liam knew Harry would like. On the inside of the band, the ring reads, _I know we’ll be alright_.

He slips it onto Harry’s finger while Harry is still half-crying into Liam’s neck.

“Fuck,” Harry says, pulling away to look at the ring on his finger. “Fuck. I love you so fucking much, Liam Payne.”

Liam laughs breathlessly. For a moment, he’s unable to rip his eyes from Harry’s finger, but then he realizes how much more he wants to see Harry’s face. He looks up to see Harry red-faced and grinning wide, tears streaking his cheeks and a bit of snot coming out of his nose. He’s the most beautiful thing Liam has ever seen.

“I am going to spend my life doing everything I can to deserve you,” Liam says, because it’s true.

Harry closes his eyes and lets out another sob-laugh. He murmurs something that sounds like, “So fucking _earnest_ ,” as he leans in to kiss Liam.

“God,” Harry manages after a few minutes of frantic kissing and groping. “I’m going to get to call you my husband.”

When they get married four months later, Harry refuses to refer to Liam as anything another than his husband for an entire month. Once, Liam counted and found that Harry called him “husband” to the checkout lady at Tesco a total of eight times. The checkout lady looked incredibly flustered. Liam avoided eye contact.

He pretended to be embarrassed for the checkout lady’s sake, but he loved it, really. Harry knew that, because Harry always knew. Liam was so fucking in love.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr post for this fic [here](http://mermaidsbush.tumblr.com/post/117982885262/this-is-self-indulgent-lirry-proposal-fluff-liam)!


End file.
